


in and out of fashion!

by highwaytune



Series: Killjoys Concert AU [2]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Concert AU, Concerts, Gen, The Fabulous Killjoys (Danger Days) Are Not MCR, it's a lot of rambling about the outfits themselves, no real plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:22:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25923559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highwaytune/pseuds/highwaytune
Summary: t-stop and friends gear up for another set.
Relationships: implied Fun Ghoul/Party Poison, implied Jet Star/Show Pony, implied Kobra Kid/Agent Cherri Cola
Series: Killjoys Concert AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1836169
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	in and out of fashion!

**Author's Note:**

> the title references greta van fleet's "when the curtain falls". this is an older piece i've been meaning to post since i released bomb pop, but here it is better late than never.

Arc is the first to emerge from behind the shoji screen, their eye-bleedingly red hair tied back in a little ponytail at the nape of their neck instead of in their eyes like usual. T-Stop has subjected them to something a little outside of their comfort zone, but that Arc is not actually hating, believe it or not. T-Stop has been working mercilessly for the past few weeks in order to gather everything, fussing at mannequins and hollering out measurements so the outfits would be perfect. The lead singer’s outfit’s key piece is a pair of blue tartan pants, with silver chains at the hip that clink softly when they walk. They’re accompanied by a black tank top with the sides cut out so that Arc’s sides are exposed, and a reflective stripe runs across the chest area. Across the reflective patch, T-Stop has scribbled something -- “RED-VOLUTION” -- a slogan that Arc had tried to get working for _weeks_ before ultimately giving up on.  
  
“Well?” Arc asks expectantly, eyes fixed on T-Stop as they hold their arms out. “Am I your perfect concert dress-up-doll fantasy come to life?”   
  
T-Stop clasps their hands together, smiling as they take in Arc’s ensemble. “It’s just the way I imagined it! You’re the perfect model, Arc,” they swoon, lifting the camera from its strap around their neck and snapping a photo. T-Stop examines the outfit they picked for Arc with another happy sigh, lifting the developing photo out of the camera with two fingers and shaking it.   
  
“You know you’re not actually supposed to shake Polaroids?” Cyberia half-snaps, the familiar edge to his voice as he emerges, as if on cue. He doesn’t look even half as thrilled as Arc did upon first stepping out, but that doesn’t mean _T-Stop_ isn’t just as thrilled.   
  
T-Stop spins in an overly-animated circle on their roller skates, hardly able to control their excitement at just how fantastic the outfits really _did_ turn out. “Oh, Cyberia!” is all that comes out, followed by a series of excited squeals and soft compliments as they fawn over the small details and just how well the outfit fits Cyberia.  
  
Cyberia’s outfit’s focus is the series of layers that form his top half. A tastefully-holey bleach-sprayed t-shirt sits loosely over top of an even-more-torn, black-and-red long-sleeve that clings to his figure almost uncomfortably closely, but neither T-Stop or Cyberia minds -- in truth, T-Stop has never seen something that so perfectly captures him. The whole ensemble is right up Cyberia’s alley, with distressed black denim and metal studs and shoes that look like they might break bones. Even through all of his complaining, Cyberia can’t deny that the figure staring back at him in the mirror is dressed appealingly, and that figure’ll look even better accompanied by the metallic silver of his bass.

“So? What do you think?” T-Stop asks hopefully, twisting a piece of hair around their fingers and shuffling on their skates. They snap a quick photo of Cyberia’s outfit, stashing it in the pocket of their jacket and _not_ shaking it this time.  
  
“I-” Cyberia starts, unsure of how to properly convey anything. “It’s perfect, T. Thanks,” he exhales, a trace of a smile creeping up on his face. T-Stop ropes Cyberia into an awkward hug, one which Cyberia can’t even reject.   
  
“Of course! Now, I guess it’s all on Nova and C-4,” T-Stop huffs, pulling away from Cyberia to lean against the wall boredly, “and Payola if he ever decides to show his face before tonight.”  
  
Supernova pokes his head out tentatively at first before his eyes set on the pair of siblings dressed like the rockstars they are. He emerges all at once after that, his hair tied back on the top and held there with clips for functionality and fashion alike. 

T-Stop feels their heart rate grow a little faster inside their chest, but for now they chalk it up to pride at the look on Supernova’s face and the general appearance of the outfit.   
  
The outfit itself is fucking majestic. Focal piece? Top -- a vibrant blue collared shirt, with spacey embroidery spanning most of it, swirling around planets and stars and constellations. Nova chose to unbutton it three or four spots, and roll the sleeves up to his forearms, keeping things cool so that moving wouldn’t cause him to drop dead from heatstroke. Grey denim that fits just right and heavy black boots top it off -- and the world’s flashiest headband sits across his forehead. _Very, very_ insanely Nova, if T-Stop had to say so themself. 

“Does it fit okay?” T-Stop asks, tilting their head as they revolve in a circle around Nova to examine every angle of their handiwork and Nova in general.   
  
“Hell yeah it does!” Supernova exclaims, wrapping their arms around T-Stop in gratitude. “Thanks again, T. You’re _so_ shiny for pulling this off hours before a set,” he rambles, twirling a stray lock of hair around his fingers like a teenage girl in a chick flick.  
  
T-Stop is glad their face is pressed against Supernova right now, or else Supernova would be asking if they were sick ‘cause of how red they are. “Aw. I couldn’t’ve done it without y’all cooperating so well with measurements ‘n all that. Been a hell of a week, and made about a million supply runs, but Witch, if these didn’t turn out fantastic...”  
  
“For sure! We’re gonna be the prettiest band in the whole rest’a the world,” Nova sighs happily, his honey-brown eyes flickering off to daydream for a moment before he finally realizes he’s still clinging to T-Stop. “Shit, didn’t mean’ta crush ya, T. My bad,” he apologizes quickly, checking T-Stop over quickly.  
  
“No problem! Glad you like it,” T-Stop nods quickly, trying to return their face to its usual color as they pull the camera up again and instruct Nova to pose for the albums. 

C-4 _finally_ joins the rest of the group, mumbling something to himself as he shuffles in. It’s hardly audible, but Arc can make out his name as he glances over to study C-4’s flushed face.   
  
“Speak of the devil!” T-Stop gasps over-dramatically, rolling over to where C-4 is standing in front of the mirror, checking out his outfit.   
  
“It’s nice, T-Stop, but do you really think they’ll-” C-4 starts hesitantly, pausing to put his hair up as well.  
  
“Trust me, C-4. You look great, and I have no doubt in my mind that everyone in that crowd’ll think the same. Plus, we’re in the zones, so even if you looked like the biggest fool on the planet you’d be starting a fashion trend,” T-Stop cracks a smile, nudging the guitarist’s shoulder before standing back to snap a photo.  
  
“Rad. You’re the best, T!” C-4 exclaims, twisting a little to look at each and every way the outfit would be received.   
  
Arc can hardly stop staring, absorbing every aspect of C-4’s outfit and just _how well_ it fits him. Black tights with bones printed on the front side (think Halloween costume shops!) are accompanied by the most atrocious pair of Kelly-green boots that are just not-matching enough to work, and loose-fitting shorts with chains rivaling Arc’s add a subtle reminder that it’ll get hot _quick_ when the sun comes up. His top, though, is the truest focal point -- bright, eye-bleeding yellow, with “BITCH” printed across the chest in black and accented with splatters of black and cut-outs on the shoulders. It’s so different from what he usually wears, and yet -- it works so well, because C-4 can pull it off _so_ well.  
  
As soon as Arc opens his mouth to deliver a risque compliment, the door swings open and the bell above it chimes, making Cyberia’s head shoot up on instinct since he was the closest to it. There’s not much time to worry about BLI agents, though, because it’s just Payola. 

“Sorry f’r the delay,” he says coolly, pushing his newly-dyed hair back and kicking the door shut as he tries to ignore Cyberia’s gaze that’s _clearly_ set on him.  
“It’s fine. But for now, put this on so I can see if I need to alter it, please!” T-Stop chirps, pocketing the developed photo of C-4 after shoving a folded stack of apparel at Payola.  
  
Payola steps behind the screen Arc had emerged from earlier without another word, and the only real sound besides the faint sound of rock music on the radio was fabric rustling and rubber soles against linoleum. 

The remaining five outside of the screen are restless, fidgeting and moving in place as they wait for the final crew member to emerge concert-ready. C-4 picks at the loose thread on his shirt until T-Stop instructs him to quit it; Supernova is invested in snapping a leftover hair clip together and apart again; Arc squints at their reflection in an attempt to tame their hair; Cyberia stands near the door rocking back and forth on the heavy platforms. T-Stop’s eyes are fixed on the screen, and as if by magic, Payola pushes it aside and steps out.   
  
“Well, shit, T-Stop!” Payola grins, pushing past Arc to admire his full outfit in the mirror. “You really have a way with this kinda stuff, dont’cha?”  
  
“I like to think so, yeah,” T-Stop replies chipperly, bringing the camera up one final time to snap a picture. The undeveloped square is placed carefully among the others as Payola starts to admire the small details.  
  
This focal piece is a little more vulgar, but it’s right up Payola’s concert-fashion-sense lane. It’s something like a varsity jacket, modified in that instead of patches celebrating sports-or-something on the back, bright letters spelled out “KICKASS”. Originally it had been a mess-around piece that T-Stop had intended to keep for themself, but upon hearing that concert outfits were a possibility they had jumped at the chance to give it to someone. Other than that, the outfit wasn’t far from what Payola would wear on a normal day -- plain grey t-shirt with some drip-dye near the collar, all-black high-tops, and obnoxiously patch-covered jeans. 

“This fucks, T. You rock,” Payola thanks T-Stop and steps back, leaning against the wall next to Cyberia just to grind his gears (Payola knew damn well how much Cyberia loved his personal space, but didn’t do much to respect this knowledge).   
  
“Glad to hear it, Payola!” T-Stop spins in a few excited circles before doing a victory lap around the room. “Well, if you’re all shiny, I suppose I should let you all go to get set up, shouldn’t I? Really, though -- I’m so happy you all like what I’ve made, and I’m even happier I won’t have to alter anythin’. Good luck tonight!”  
  
“Are you coming tonight, T?” Nova asks before he can stop himself, shoving his hands in his pockets awkwardly. “I mean, if you’re free of course…”  
  
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, guys. Front row seats for your favorite outfit coordinator?” T-Stop asked with a grin, holding up sets of crossed fingers.   
  
“‘Course. It’s the least we can do!” Arc replies immediately, flashing double finger-pistols. 

“Cool. I’ll be there, then,” T-Stop nods, dusting off their hands. “Now get outta here! Go get ready!” They open the door of their studio, playfully shooing out the band members.   
  
Each one of them leaves T-Stop with a parting gesture -- from Arc, a little salute; from Cyberia, twin peace signs; from Ghoul, two middle-fingers and a stink eye; the sign of the horns from Payola, and from Nova, a playful heart drawn in the air. 

T-Stop breathes a sigh of relief to themself, smiling as they lean against the closed door. Tonight is gonna be absolutely  _ off-the-charts _ knowing that they’d made the performance outfits. Something is truly fulfilling about being so close with these five, but T-Stop can’t put their finger on why they are so drawn to Nova. Who knows? Maybe it’ll become even just a little clearer tonight, if anything. _ (Spoilers: totally.)  _

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! send me asks about concert au/tell me what you thought over on my tumblr cherrikisser. :)


End file.
